Atomic Nerds

“Holy shit, that’s a big dog!”
–Breda

So as folks may have heard, there was a bit of a shindig up in Colorado this last weekend. Before I jump in, there are other recaps here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here (with one of the best writeups of The Deer Incident out there), here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here (with hilarious arm-chair quarterbacking in comments), here, here and here.

If I missed anybody, just say so in comments and I’ll add it in.

I imagine the best way is to just start at the beginning. As you go through this, just imagine it popping up the days ala’ Dawn of the Dead or something for effect.

TUESDAY
Tuesday saw the last panicked push before Breda and Alan showed up for some pre-Blogorado fun. This was a blur. Common phrases around the house included “Heydidyoutakecareofthe” and “Whataboutthe” “Didyoualreadydo” and so forth, all spoken like a 33rpm record played at 45 while we blurred around in a frenzy that would make a hummingbird blush. After flight trouble delaying Breda, things didn’t really get started until it was basically Wednesday anyway, whereupon we took the dogs over to neutral turf to meet our guests, hoping it would help ease the “There are new people in my territory, I will let them know they are new and in my territory” reaction. Thankfully, it did. Adding in a copious dose of dog biscuits, Kodos and Kang both took to Alan and Breda like crazy, and have been sniffing around all afternoon (when not sleeping) wondering where they went. Just add some alcohol and decompression chatter and fill in your own details.*

WEDNESDAY

Wednesday started with Breda returning a favor and cooking us an utterly amazing Irish breakfast. Black pudding, white pudding, bangers, fried tomatos, Irish brown bread, eggs, and beans. There were rougly five thousand calories per fork-ful, and calling it delicious is like saying a man struck by lightning is feeling a little under the weather. It’s accurate, but it doesn’t really do the situation justice, now does it?

After that, we set about showing off the quirky** hometown. Scenery was observed at the overlook five minutes walk from our front door, and we made a tour through both the Historical Museum and the Bradbury Science Museum (also known as the “Yay LANL!” museum, since the lab owns and operates it and puts in more than a bit of excessive positive spin). There we found Breda contemplating MIRVs

and we paused by some old gizmos that might possibly be of interest to a certain alpha Geekette.

We learned about recessive genes, in the aid of which Alan huffed a bongload of mansweat, and LabRat showed off her thumb:

We tried to convince Breda to do a Slim Pickins impression with one of the displays, to no avail.

Maybe someone particularly talented with photoshop could take some source material (sorry about the sun glare) and do something? Just sayin’….

The day finished out with dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, and Breda earned the hate-filled loving approval of Zydeco.

THURSDAY
Thursday was basically spent driving to Secret Location, CO. Our lovely (if underfed, by some unfathomable miracle, but more on this later) hostess FarmGirl warned us pre-departure that there “wasn’t much” between the point we were to depart the interstate and her town. This is like saying that black holes suck***. The last hundred miles of drive between highway and blogmeet had us questioning our sanity on more than one occasion. We kept expecting the world to turn blue, or to meet an older version of ourselves peddling a bicycle the other way, or given the resemblance of the terrain to other areas see a giant yellow exclamation point floating over a bush, or hear a lot of jokes about Chuck Norris. LabRat was certain she’d seen that horse with the white fore hoof at least three times, and we began measuring time in miles rather than minutes. This did not change the fact that time dilation is a known effect, and one that was, at the time, present at curiously sub-proxiluminous velocities. I thought about attempting to check the truck and occupants for unexplained sudden increases in mass, but decided that discretion was the better part of valor, what with LabRat’s increasing stir-craziness and all. Besides, such things are hard to check properly in the dark.

6.0345 x10⁴⁸ years later, we arrived. Passing through town at a speed calculated to have optimal effect on the issuance of speeding tickets to those passing through on the previously (more or less) sensibly speed-limited highway, we found our motel. Given the neon-pink lighting and other subtle cues, I thought about asking if the daily rate was substantially different from the hourly rate. Checked in, we headed to the first evening’s gathering, tired but game. I’m pretty sure everyone we met there, FarmGirl, Christina LMT, Gay_Cynic, Snarky, the already in-tow Alan and Breda, OldNFO, AEPilotJim, is over in the sidebar, and if I forgot anybody, my apologies. The drive was long, the author was tired, the food abundant and delicious, and the beer in quantity. Seriously, The FarmFamily cooks up one hell of a brisket and pork shoulder, with accompanying sauce, hot sauce, and sides. Even now that we’re home and in good light where things are easier to measure, I’ve been afraid to step on the scale after the four-day gorge of amazing chow. FarmGirl herself, a prime candidate to dress up as Twiggy for Halloween must have a tapeworm or something to be around food this delicious all the time and yet still maintain her svelte shape. The fact that such a frame could also perform a passable imitation of Mongo from Blazing Saddles in the horse and cow punching department is nothing short of amazing.

Finally, after the iPhone addicts finished draining the batteries on their devices, to the boredom of all others, we all headed back to rooms (most of us at the same motel for that matter) and crashed for the night.

Then I discovered the train that runs through town.

I hate the train that runs through town.

To be continued…

*NOT LIKE THAT, TD!
**The polite way of saying “Nucking futs”
***Don’t act like I don’t know it’s just exceptionally high gravity. You can have my metaphors when I’ve reached room temperature.

Posted Ballistic Mood Improvers, Booze and Fine Hooch, Food, Friends, Wildlife Interface, japery |